


o' high priest.

by prismatic_starstuff



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blood, Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Character Death, Current High Priest is in the way of that, Current High Priest loses his 'head' (and his life--), M/M, Tar-Mairon wants to be High Priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismatic_starstuff/pseuds/prismatic_starstuff
Summary: How the King's best advisor became Numenor's new High Priest.
Relationships: Sauron | Mairon/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	o' high priest.

Tar-Mairon's lips are so pretty: soft and smooth and painted in gold dust, stretched so perfectly around the high priest's cock as his skilled tongue so slowly lavishes it in the attention that only a good servant can provide. His beautiful face is perfectly framed by silky black hair that feels glorious to grab and pull at, and there's a lovely pink blush staining his pale cheeks all the way to the tips of his long and pointed ears.

Completely bare apart from the glittering jewellery that adorns his well-toned arms and his firm thighs, the king's finest advisor moans shamelessly in luscious and rich tones, the action sending vibrations through the priest's shaft that make his legs quiver. Gripping tighter to the hair of the former enemy, he thrusts himself into that delicious and hot wetness at a leisurely pace, shivering with delight at the caress of his tongue and the light scrape of his teeth.

Mairon's hands, slender and elegant and decorated in rings and bangles and all manner of expensive jewels, trail feather-light up the back of the priest's thighs to tenderly cup his rear end; and seemingly he enjoys what he feels there, as he keens appreciatively. "So good," he purrs after drawing back, the tip of his tongue lapping out to play with the head of the other's cock, his cat-like eyes gleaming up at the priest mischievously. "Are you pleased thus far, o' High Priest?"

The priest, taking deep breaths in attempts to steady himself, swallows thickly. He's heard whispers around Ar-Pharazôn's court about this one: whispers of heathen thoughts, of the desire to bring about some manner of craven religion, even of a refusal of Eru himself. He doesn't want to let himself fall; not physically, not emotionally, not too hard and not too deeply...

...Maybe thoughts he should have had _before_ he so eagerly allowed the advisor to take him into his wicked mouth, though it's a bit too late to dwell on that now.

Finding himself capable of making no sound past sharp and shaky breaths, the priest nods, unwinding his fingers from Mairon’s hair to softly stroke his head. He ignores the flutter in his heart that comes as the advisor so sweetly leans into his touch.

Humming softly in content, Mairon’s hands slowly squeeze and grope the priest’s rear end, massaging in warm and comforting circles. “You are full of tension, dear one,” he observes, his smile dropping as nimble fingers trail down to caress at the other’s thighs. “Such stress in your lovely form... You make me worry.” His head leans affectionately against the priest’s leg, and he gazes up at him with concern in those fiery eyes of his.

“It’s... fine.” The priest doesn’t want to allow himself to open up to this one: not about the difficulties that come with his position, not about how frustrating it can be to deal with the king’s arrogance, not about any of it. He doesn’t want to show any more weakness in front of him than he already has... than he already _is,_ being bare and exposed before him. “Believe me, you are doing a magnificent job of easing my stresses already.”

“As long as you are sure, o’ High Priest.” Mairon presses a kiss to the swollen head of the other’s cock, giving a pleased little chuckle as he feels the shiver that passes through the priest. A long finger slides up between the priest’s buttocks and slowly circles the tight entrance between, and the advisor sighs contentedly. “But do remember, dear... my earlier offer still stands...”

Flushed and aching from all this expert teasing, the priest finds himself breathless and panting, able only to shake his head in response. The two have had this discussion before during their... ‘dalliance.’ Occasionally the advisor would ask the priest if he needs any assistance in his works, and each time he would say no. It wasn’t that he wanted to distrust the advisor he had grown close to, but all the rumours are just a bit too loud to ignore, and--

The warmth of a finger breaching him, sliding itself past his unprepared ring and stretching it to a pleasant fullness, draws a loud gasp from the priest; and Mairon smirks, chuckling low in his pretty throat. “You would allow yourself to be lost in your thoughts while you have me kneeling before you? I am offended,” he chastises, a lightness and playfulness to his tone that shows he isn’t too serious.

“I-I apologise,” the priest breathes out, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back as his hole clenches and relaxes around that finger, his body getting itself accustomed to the welcomed invasion. “Oh, Mairon--”

“Tar-Mairon,” comes the correction from below immediately; while the priest tries his best to keep the advisor at arm’s length, it seems that the advisor does so with a much greater ease.

“Y-Yes... Tar-Mairon...” Low groans of pleasure escape the priest as that finger works him in a rhythm, and his hips cant forward to press the head of his length against Mairon’s lips. “Oh, please... Would you please...?”

Another chuckle, sultry and deep, and the warmth of his breath alone makes his partner whine with anticipation. “Such a demanding little thing,” he purrs; but still, those golden lips part, and the priest moans loudly as Mairon welcomes him again into that slick heat. That long finger continues to penetrate him, to stretch him, to prepare him; and soon, another joins it, filling him up so wonderfully.

The priest almost feels embarrassed; he’s flushed, moaning, desperately thrusting back against Tar-Mairon’s sinful fingers and into his wicked mouth while the advisor seems so calm, so collected, so... in control, even though he is the one on his knees. But the satisfaction is too much; he can barely process anything but the burning ache between his legs, the silken hair in his hand, the repeated brushing against the place inside him where he needed it the most...

“You see...?” Mairon breathes out after drawing back, nuzzling his cheek against the wet and dripping shaft and fixing the priest with such a gorgeous smirk. “Isn’t it nice to allow yourself to relax? Isn’t it nice to let someone else do the work...?”

“L-Like this, yes,” the priest chuckles breathlessly, eyes falling closed once more as his pleasure mounts; his legs tremble violently, and he’s sure he won’t be able to hold on much longer... “I’ve-- a-ah-- t-told you before though; I don’t need any - _ngh_ \- assistance... with my job...”

With his eyes closed in pleasure, the priest cannot see the narrowing of Tar-Mairon’s cat-like eyes, cannot see the aggravated tightening of his gold-dusted lips. “Really...? Not at all?” the advisor coos, his tone dripping honey despite his visible anger.

“M-Mmm...” The priest breathes out hard and fast, his hips meeting those fingers as they touch and stretch and massage him just as he needs. “Kind as you are, precious Tar-Mairon... oh... it is m-my job to worry about religious matters, you see...?”

His length leaks and twitches, and he keens, so very close; and as that gorgeous heat engulfs him once more, swallowing his entire shaft all at once, he’s sure he’s about to burst--

\--but a sharp and excruciating pain suddenly tears his eyes wide open, his pleasured moans giving way to a scream of pain.

Between his legs, there’s... red. A lot of it. Tar-Mairon turns his head sharply to one side to spit out _something_ solid, which lands against the floor with a vaguely wet thud.

The priest doesn’t have so much as a second to react before the advisor is upon him, knocking him to the floor with a strength he’d forgotten Tar-Mairon had in him, all traces of kindness and servitude and adoration gone from his beautiful features.

“W-W-Wha... Why...” the priest barely manages, eyes wide, head swimming; he must be losing a lot of blood, and he feels so very weak, his entire form shaking from fear.

“I no longer have patience for this farcical charade.” Mairon’s voice is not the one the priest has come to know: it is inhuman, and it rings with something powerful and terrible, something beyond his understanding. His lips draw back in a cruel sneer, and the priest is suddenly aware of just how _sharp_ his teeth are; but only for a fraction of a moment, as those teeth are suddenly in his neck, biting hard and relentlessly like a wolf devouring its prey.

Screams echo throughout the chamber, only to be muffled as Mairon presses a hand to the priest’s lips, hard enough to crack his jaw with ease. The pristine and costly decorations of the room are scarred by streaks and drips and gushing pools of red; and once the screaming ceases to offer him amusement, the advisor sinks his teeth straight into the priest’s throat, effortlessly tearing it out and discarding the viscera in a sloppy heap somewhere near his detached cock.

Tar-Mairon’s pretty lips stretch so perfectly into a dark grin, and that skilled tongue slips out to lick at the red which now stains them.

* * *

Come the morning, the once-High Priest of Numenor is found dead in his chambers. Broken and bitten as though a savage beast had gotten to his body, a panic and a mourning spreads through the court of the king in no time.

Even though he reels from the loss, Ar-Pharazôn cannot allow his lands to grind to a halt: he orders his men to devote more time to patrolling the perimeter for any beast that might breach the walls, and with no other better suited to take the position, he places the duties of High Priest upon the shoulders of his advisor Tar-Mairon.

Ashen and trembling on the outside, it is with tearful eyes that Tar-Mairon bows to the king and faithfully accepts his commission.

Rejoicing and gleeful on the inside, he makes a silent promise to his master: it will not be long until these people are his.


End file.
